The
conference, a quarterly meeting of State statisticians, had ended
early and Arnold Gray was back in his hotel room, the Holiday
Inn at San Francisco's Civic Center. He took off his jacket and
tie, then dialed his home number. His wife Ellen, as if she'd
been waiting by the phone, picked up on the first ring.
"How are things in Sacramento?" he asked.

"No good news.
Steven didn't get that job." Steven was their younger son, now
23 years old. Hed gone to work part-time for a small market research
firm while still going to college at Sac State and after graduating,
instead of exploring the job market, had continued there full-time because
it was the easiest thing to do. The problem was that the firm's owner
was a neurotic woman who had a habit of firing her employees and a few
months ago Stevens turn, as Arnold knew it would, had come.
"Any other prospects?"
"Nothing that I know of," Ellen said. "And he wants to
know if he can borrow some money. He has some bills to pay and there's
a concert he wants to go to this weekend."
"We'll see about the bills." For the last two months, they'd
been paying Steven's rent while assuming his unemployment insurance
would cover the rest of his expenses. "He doesn't have to go to
a concert."
"But he needs some cheering up. He says he never goes anywhere
because he doesn't have any money."
Arnold knew that Ellen would somehow manage to see to it that Steven
got the money he needed for the concert. "We'll talk about it when
I get back," he said.
"How's the conference?"
"The usual. The weather's not very good, cold and foggy. You should
be happy you're not here."
Ellen had wanted to come to San Francisco with him, saying she'd go
shopping when he was at his meetings. But he'd managed to dissuade her,
telling her (untruthfully) that the State frowned on wives accompanying
their husbands on such trips. For the last few weeks she'd gone on and
on about Steven and Arnold frankly wanted to get away from her for a
couple of days.

"I talked to Paul today," said Ellen.
"Oh? Is he OK?" Paul was their older son, now 25. After giving
them lots of problems through high school when he'd been into drugs
and alcohol, he seemed to have straightened out, going to college and
then getting a decent job with a Sacramento financial planning company.
For the last year, he'd been living with a girl named Carol he'd met
at a party.
"Yes, he's fine, except for those noisy neighbors they have downstairs.
I wish he and Carol would move out of that place."
"They will someday." If they want to, thought Arnold. It was
amazing how Ellen wanted to manage their sons' lives. "Well, I'll
see you sometime tomorrow."
"I'll be glad when you're back. Maybe you can talk to Steven again."
That was something to look forward to, thought Arnold, as he hung up.

Arnold crossed the Civic Center, where it seemed at least a hundred
homeless people had set up camp. Many were drinking cheap bottles of
wine as he walked past and several asked him for handouts. He headed
up Market Street, which seemed to get shabbier every time he went to
San Francisco. As he approached downtown, he noticed one of those gift
stores which have all kinds of self-improvement books, inspirational
texts, perfumes which relieved stress and, the latest fad that year,
a variety of angels guaranteed to protect you against the perils of
life. Ellen liked angels so he decided to go in; maybe he could find
something to cheer her up.

Behind the counter a large bald man in his fifties, about Arnold's own
age, was rearranging some merchandise. He wore glasses, had a day's
growth of beard and wore a Mexican shirt, jeans and sandals. He looked
up briefly as Arnold entered, pushed up his glasses and looked down
again. There was something familiar about the gesture, as there was
about the man. Arnold walked to the counter and looked more closely
at him. "Sidney?" he asked. "Sid? Is that you?"
The man looked up, glanced around the shop as if to make sure nobody
was there to overhear, then said, "Yeah, Arnold, it's me."
Arnold couldn't have been more surprised. Sidney Monk had been his neighbor
in Sacramento, his tennis partner and possibly his best friend, when
ten years ago he'd suddenly disappeared. Up until that time, he'd seemed
to be the typical suburbanite, a stockbroker, married with two children,
a Little League coach (for his son) and a soccer coach (for his daughter).
Mary, his wife, had been shattered when he'd left and couldn't explain
his departure. She'd since sold their house, which was too expensive
for her to keep up, and had moved to a condominium across town. Arnold
knew that Ellen occasionally talked to her on the phone.
"What are you doing here?" asked Arnold.
"What you see. Running a gift store."
"But what happened. Why'd you run away?"
"The truth? I couldn't take it any more. Our entire life was the
kids. Janey was always going to the hospital with ear infections. Jimmy
was always getting into trouble."
Arnold remembered that Sidney's daughter was sickly and his son wild.
"And the only thing Mary was interested in was them. She worried
about them all the time and they were all she talked about. It used
to drive me crazy. And it sure didn't do anything for our sex life."

Arnold remembered weekends with Sidney and his family, the two of them
watching football on TV, while the kids ran around and their wives talked
about, yes, the kids, what else. "So why didn't you ever tell me?"
Sidney shrugged. "I don't know. You're such a straight arrow, you'd
probably try to convince me to stay."
"It took me over a year to find another tennis partner. Do you
still play?"
"Nah." Sidney glanced down at his paunch. "I probably
should, but that seems to belong to another life."
"So where did you go?"
"Would you believe I went back to New York? I wanted to get as
far away from California as I could. But after one winter I knew I couldn't
survive there. So I came back, but to San Francisco. I drifted around
for a while, had a lot of odd jobs, was nearly homeless once, then I
met Nadia and here I am."
"Nadia?"
"Yeah, the woman I live with. She's divorced; no children, thank
God. She also owns the store."
"I see. Well, do you ever regret leaving?"
"Not a minute. The truth is that I never really liked having kids.
Getting married was a mistake. Leaving was the best thing I ever did.
It was also probably the best thing for Mary. But what about you?"
"Me?"
"Yes. Don't you ever think about it? Just taking off. Getting away
from everything."
Arnold was spared from replying by a large woman who entered the store
from a door in the back and said to Sidney, "What are you doing?
You can't spend all your time talking to a customer. You have to get
those things in order."
"Arnold, this is Nadia. Arnold's an old friend of mine, from Sacramento."
Nadia looked at Arnold as if he was a dubious piece of merchandise.
He judged her to be about fifty, attractive in a statuesque way. She
was well-dressed, in a red suit, although somewhat over-decorated, to
his taste, with jewelry.
"I should really get going," said Arnold. "I stopped
in because Ellen, that's my wife, likes angels. I thought I could get
one from her."
Nadia brought a box out from beneath the counter and opened it. "Here,"
she said. "That's one of our latest. A guardian angel. Guaranteed
to watch over you and your loved ones."
"That's perfect," said Arnold. "I'll take it."
As Nadia was wrapping up the angel, a large black cat appeared from
nowhere and jumped up onto the counter. "Ah, there you are, Lucifer,"
said Sidney, stroking the cat's back.
Arnold, who had two cats at home, automatically reached out and patted
Lucifer on the head.
"Be careful," said Sidney. "He sometimes bites."
But Lucifer only purred as Arnold stroked him behind his ears.
"Thank you," said Arnold, taking the box.
"Look," said Sidney. "You won't tell anyone about meeting
me, will you?"
"No, you're secret's safe with me. But aren't you curious about
your kids?" Arnold thought they were both in college now but wasn't
sure.
"No," Sidney said emphatically. He was still stroking Lucifer's
back.
"I sometimes think the only one Sidney loves is that cat,"
said Nadia.
Arnold didn't know how exactly to reply to that so he said his good-bys
and left the store.

It was already dark when Arnold resumed his walk up Market Street. Not
too many people were about. A wild-eyed bearded man jumped into his
path and asked him for money. Arnold hurried on and, on Powell Street,
found Henry's, a restaurant he knew from the old days. Inside, it was
as elegant as ever and, as he found when he opened his menu, twice as
expensive.
While he ate his dinner, Arnold reflected on the strange encounter with
Sid. So Sid had broken the bonds of his suburban life; hed gotten
away. Sid had asked him if hed ever thought about just taking
off. He supposed he had, especially during that time when Paul was drinking
and doing drugs. Hadnt every husband and father thought the same
thing?

Of course the idea was ridiculous. But was it? The two boys were grown
up, or were supposed to be. Steven would eventually get another job.
Ellen could sell the house and move back to Atlanta, where her mother
lived. He was eligible for his State pension. It wouldn't be much but
it would be enough to keep him going. He could get an apartment in San
Francisco and get a job in some store like Sid. Maybe he could even
persuade Sid to take up tennis again. They could play in Golden Gate
Park. It was an intriguing idea. Maybe he should think about it.

When Arnold paid his bill, the waiter asked if he was from out of town
and where he was staying. He suggested that Arnold take a taxi back
to his hotel instead of walking. "This area's not what it used
to be." Recalling the army of homeless people and the wild-eyed
drunk who'd accosted him, Arnold decided this was good advice.

In the hotel lobby, Arnold met one of the other conference participants,
a woman named Ingrid Krauss he'd always found attractive. He suggested
they have a drink but she said she was tired and was going back to her
room. Disappointed, Arnold returned to his own room, where, almost immediately,
the phone rung. Maybe Ingrid had changed her mind, he thought. But it
was Ellen, sounding breathless. Arnold felt the familiar knot forming
in his stomach. What now? "Where have you been?" asked Ellen.
"I've been trying to get you all night."
"I had dinner out. What's happened?"
"Its Paul. He had a few too many beers at work and was stopped
by the highway patrol. He called me from the county jail."
"Hes in jail?"
"Yes. Can you come home right away?"
"Let me make a couple of calls, then Ill drive back."